Star Wars: Cylon Insurrection
by MisterTabi
Summary: A drabble showing the numerous events surrounding the Cylons and their effect on the general course of history before and during the Galactic Civil War. For those who haven't the slightest clue what is happening, please read Cylon Awakening.
1. The Gutting of Parthalon

****

Star Wars

Cylon Insurrection

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to Battlestar Galactica or Star Wars. This is merely a fan fiction work.

-

**_Imperial II_-Class Star Destroyer _Parthalon_**

Captain Gallan was marveled at his new chair. It was very comfortable. Especially when he leaned back. That and the new medal over his heart signifying his recent promotion. Oh, it took him years of pinching and pulling, but it got him to his very own star destroyer! A worn was yes, but a rather well known and prestigious one with battle scars. The previous captain had been demoted and promptly discharged in disgrace, having lost three new Imperial II Star Destroyers to the rebels.

Well! No such thing will happen on his watch. Even if the captain before him had been lauded as a great tactician and strategist, it was obvious now the man was nothing more than a fraud. Gallan felt a slight stab of irony, but ignore it.

The crew shifted restlessly, manning their posts with professionalism of any Imperial officer. Their new captain was easily recognizable as a vain man with the upbringing of a noble. Thin, with a weak chin and a twirly mustache that was constantly being twirled. They were unhappy with his obnoxious antics as he hummed and smiled to himself in the command chair.

"Captain, congratulations on your new post as the new captain of the _Parthalon_," said First Officer Jan, with a forced smile.

Gallan nodded with a wide toothy grin, tugging on his mustache idly, "She provides a rather smooth ride, doesn't she?"

"Captain," reported someone at the navigation station, "We have a report of an unidentified heavy cargo ship entering Sector 42!"

"Shoot it down," ordered Gallan dismissively.

"Sir," objected Jan, "Firing on a vessel without hailing is against regulations-"

"This is to celebrate my promotion, so make it flashy," barked the captain with an extra twist to his moustache, "Get to it!"

The first officer's lips thinned spectacularly, but he obeyed, forcing out the order, "Prepare to fire!"

Nearly a kilometer away, an aging GR-75 Medium Transport chuntered along, unaware of the disturbance it can unwittingly caused. It's cargo was of greatest importance, and it was nearing it's delivery point.

The imperial star destroyer silently directed it's port-side heavy turrets and began tracking the vessel, which continued plundering on.

"Fire," said the captain dismissively, lazily giving his mustache a twirl. A volley of bright green turbolaser bolts were blasted from each of the octuple cannons.

One after another, each bolt slammed into the slow junk-ridden transport, ripping through the shields as if they never existed, tearing wide holes into it's hull. The ship tilted as multiple explosions tore the ship in half, scattering it's cargo everywhere. Explosions sent pieces of debris flying everywhere. Dozens of cargo cubes were jettisoning their contents, hundreds of little probes were activated, their red lights blinking. The delivery was a success!

"Ah, bravo," sighed Gallan, "Not as exciting as I thought."

"Indeed, sir," agreed Jan stiffly.

"Ah, well, turn this ship round," he continued, ignoring or not noticing his first officer's coldness, "Lets have a look around."

Something slammed into the bridge, sending the captain flying out of his chair, his moustache un-twirled and hair mussed up in a comical fashion. Gallan fumbled his way back into his chair, "W-what is happening?"

"Three ships have opened fire on us! Sensors are being jammed," said an officer at the helm, "Jamming fields are coming from multiple sources around us...that transport we just destroyed must have scattered them everywhere-"

Another explosion slammed into the Star Destroyer's rear. Sending personnel reeling over their stations. The lights flickered as a streak of white whipped past the bridge transparasteel windows. Gallan recognized the missile as a ST12 Heavy Concussion Missile from a report he had read a short while ago. Rebel activity in this sector had included stealing a multiple shipments of heavy weapons, mainly missiles and torpedoes meant for TIE Bombers on Corellia.

"Turn this ship around! Now!" He shouted as the missile struck the portside armor with a hull-shaking explosion. The star destroyer turned about to face it's enemy, under heavy missile fire. A ship slowly came into view of the mark one eyeballs of the entire bridge crew.

"Three Rebel Starfishes! I repeat three Rebel Star Fishes!"

"Close In Sensors are detecting thousands of droid fighters inbound!"

"Starboard quad laser turrets are offline!"

"Launch all the TIE Fighters," Gallan shrieked, "Fire all the guns! Everything! Fire _everything_!"

Barely even halfway through it's turnabout, the Star Destroyer began opening up with it's quad and heavy turbolaser cannons, spewing bright green bolts of death towards the enemy. From it's underbelly, a full wing of barely prepped TIE Fighters swung out into a battlefield. Faced with over three thousand fightercraft, the TIEs were dropped into a dozen singed fighters desperately fighting tooth and nail against their red-eyed foes. All three basestars were soaking up the fire being thrown at it, great ripples of blue white splashes made as each destructive green bolt of energy impacted it's shields. Dozens of missiles lazily filled the void between the ships, all streaking into the wedged-shaped armored destroyer.

Proton-Tipped Missiles created yawning explosions of bright red and orange as the atmosphere ignited, the metal and armor warped beyond recognition. The command tower was partially torn apart. Nearly all it's batteries were non fucntioning, either from missile fire or from loss of power. The TIE Fighters were left drifting, Cylon Raiders having long since torn them apart and left relatively intact with high powered rapid fire blasters. Never before had the pilots seen so much carnage.

Jan pushed a gibbering Gallan out of the way, jabbing at the controls on the command console. The star destroyer was a wreck, more dead than alive and this was the second encounter between him and these new rebel warships. He was lucky that they were withdrawing, otherwise they'd be dead. Jammers were fritzing out. Support and reinforcements would be here soon.

But the damage had been done. The Rebels have shown themselves to be more than able of hitting them in a fair fight.

Before his eyes, the Star Fishes collected their fighters and disappeared in a flash of light.


	2. The Flight of Terek Zaang

****

Star Wars

Cylon Insurrection

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to Battlestar Galactica or Star Wars. This is merely a fan fiction work.

-

"I can't shake em off-!"

TIE Interceptor Pilot, ID Code SD-45-I4, Terek Zaang exhaled sharply into his comlink as the gees in his TIE Interceptor increased as it rolled away from the 'raider' belching out steams of blaster fire. A few bolts narrowly streaked by his ship's left radiator panel, one actually glancing it's edge, instantly sending his fragile fighter into a partially uncontrolled spin. He though he heard an acknowledgement, but it was cut off by some static. He was probably on his own now, his squadron were either dead or fighting alone.

A droid raider came into view, chasing a beleaguered TIE/sa Bomber, pelting it with streams of blue blaster bolts. The bomber's munition's magazine sparked and the ship and it's pilot promptly went up in flames. Terek felt a sharp pang of sadness for a moment, one of his friends had just died, SD-45-B2. He quickly avenged the unnamed friend with a pair of green bolts of energy into the offending raider. The curved 'E'-shaped craft exploded in a surprising display of metal, seconds of fire, and gore.

It was surprising, really, how the rebels managed to cram brains, firepower, and droid parts into a single deadly fighter. What was the point of organic parts anyway? Terek decided to ponder on that when he wasn't in a situation of impending death.

He hadn't forgotten about the damn thing behind him either, it fired a pair of homing missiles, forcing him to pulled his joysticks into yet another roll. His stomach protested the maneuver, but the pilot forced his rations down as the missiles spiraled away and out of range.

If it was one thing, Terek thought, that described these droid raiders it was that they were worse than Rebel ambushes.

It was just another patrol, down near Rodia, where he and his fellow pilots were joking around, trying to lighten to usual dark mood that plagued TIE Pilots constantly. They were joining up with their Star Destroyer when the attack came. A rebel Nebulon-B frigate came out of hyperspace, casual as you please and began launching X-Wings. Naturally, an Imperial Star Destroyer would be more than a match for the light frigate.

Until the Starfish came in.

There had been rumors of a new faction joining the Rebel Alliance, a powerful faction that had beaten back Vader's own battlegroup at Hoth. Terek, sitting at the cantina with the rest of his jockeys scoffed at the idea, disbelieving.

As the interceptor sped out of the way of another pair of missiles, SD-45-I4, Pilot Terek Zaang knew the truth. They were utterly outgunned when the starfish came in, trails of white everywhere as missiles left it's arms, streaking into the frigate, blowing apart turbolaser turrets and comm towers. When a proton torpedo salvo took out it's hyperdrives, they knew running wasn't an option.

Terek twisted his fighter into an Immelman, clipping the droid fighter behind him. It flipped about, unloosing a burst of blaster fire into one of his solar panels. Sparks flew as it spun to face his cockpit. It's red pulsing eye stared deep into his helmeted eyes. The TIE's weapons were overheated, even as he pushed the chin laser cannons as many times as possible they wouldn't comply.

He stared into the droid' single eye, knowing what was about to come.

SD-45-I4 braced himself for death, whether by vacuum or fire.

Seconds crawled as Terek waited for death.

It didn't come. He opened his eyes and found the droid gone. His fighter's weapons were offline now, though the computer showed it still blinking the 'overheating' sign. The engines were virtually junked, melted and nearly out of fuel. He activated one of the fighter little used micro-thrusters and squeezed the trigger. A burst of gas swung his relatively intact craft in the direction of the Acclamator he had called home for nearly a fourth of a year. The battle was done. The arrow-shaped destroyer was on it's side, blackened hull and blasted ports. He saw X-Wings still firing their own laser cannons, but the raiders were withdrawing. The Starfish jumped into hyperspace.

After a moment of consideration, the rest of the rebels followed.

Terek checked his oxygen tank.

Punching in his ID, he activated his distress signal.

"...SD-45-I4 requesting pick up...I repeat this is SD-"


	3. Centurion Storm

****

Star Wars

Cylon Insurrection

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to Battlestar Galactica or Star Wars. This is merely a fan fiction work.

-

The BlasTech E-11 Blaster Rifle was an all purpose weapon. Prevalent in all ranks of the Stormtrooper Corps, every Stormtrooper has fired one, used one, has one. It was their best and most reliable friend. The E-11 could alternate between semiautomatic, fully automatic and pulse-fire settings, and was designed to use a variety of ammunition, including grenades, darts, and flares. A computer enhanced scope compensated for dark, hazy, or smoky conditions, while a supplementary computer enabled the scope to display data specific to the weapon's current operating mode. The E-11's long barrel produced a tightly focused and very powerful particle beam, and had a maximum range of three hundred meters and an optimum range of one hundred meters.

The basic E-11 was 438 mm long when folded and weighed 2.6 kilograms. The power cell housing opened on the left side of the action housing, above the trigger, giving the E-11 a very low profile (useful when shooting prone or from a barricade). The E-11's plasma gas cartridges allowed for over 500 shots, while the power cells lasted for about 100 shots, depending on the setting.

All in all, the mass produced blaster rifle was the best damn weapon in the hands of a Stormtrooper.

But it was pretty damn useless right here and now.

Zennith Tylor ducked behind an outcropping of ferrocrete, blaster bolts picking away at his newest bit of cover. Even from his slightly cushioned helmet, he could hear the rebel's new battledroids slowly making their way towards him.

Most of his squad was more or less dead, though Meck Odom was hiding two meters away behind a burnt out rebel hovercar. The AT-ST that had gone with his squad was a burning pile of scrap some two hundred meters away, the mortars shelled the entire squad away.

Then, the rebels came.

A group of aliens and two human rebels with blasters and assorted gear ambushed him and his retreating group, mowing three men down. Reinforcements came in, another squad of troopers. At first, it looked like they were going win this ambush. Then the rebels called in their own reinforcements.

Centurions the rebels called them. They resembled a sort of blocky stumpy humanoid and didn't seem all that damn scary till they started shooting. They had some sort of bullpup blaster rifle. The reinforcing squad were cut down in a matter of minutes, the survivors were scattered this way and that from a dozen rifle launched grenades.

He and his squad, halved in numbers, found some cover and fought the Centurions. It took six powercells, a total of nearly six hundred shots from multiple blasters, to take down just one of those things! Standard issue or no, the E-11 didn't have the power to punch through that kind of armor those droids were fielding! No, what they needed were some droid busters.

And that one they took down? It was still _alive._ It was just crawling on the ground and when it raised it's head to stare at him, Zenn couldn't move. Fear flooded his body. It took a death of a fellow stormtrooper to force him to yell for a retreat.

If only they had someplace to retreat _to_.

-

They came across a dozen more stormtrooper squads, either embroiled in fighting their own little firefights or dead, all fighting those damn Centurions.

Nearly two hundred meters later, they had lost nearly everyone instead of him, old Colonel Pincely whom they picked up, Odom, and a poor sap that was killed as soon as they went around the corner of a burnt out husk of a building. A Rebel Sniper had blown the poor man's head open. He, Pincely and Odom managed to dodge another bolt and locked themselves into a building.

Then they ran into another group of those Centurions.

These were different. A whole lot more different.

These were tall slender ones, far more agile than the heavy troopers the Rebels had called up. Odom brought up his blaster rifle and unloaded the entire energy clip into the damn thing. It was fast, a blur when it jumped out at the both of them. But thankfully, what it had in speed it paid the price in armor. Thick red liquid splattered everywhere as the blaster bolts ripped open it's chest, acrid smoke and burnt electronics filled the hallway. Running footsteps could be heard, along with the unmistakable machine-like whine of hydrological servos. Another droid rounded the corner and saw him. It ran towards him, taking a stomach of startled blaster fire. Pinceling threw his rifle at it and lunged at it's legs, tripping it. It's claws fell short of Zenn by a few scant inches as he replied with cracking his rifle over it's helmet-like head. He, Pinceling, and Odom spent the next minute bashing the damn thing to death.

They stopped, and for a moment, they could do nothing but gasp for breath and wheeze. The Centurion jerked, and raised it's head with a whine of servos. Odom raised his blaster, looked it in it's blood red eye and pulled the trigger. It's optics exploded and the droid slumped. They checked the building for any more surprises before resting for a moment. They took the respite with thanks and quickly ate some rations and drank a water packet. Scrounging some ammunition from what they could find, they gathered back down the first floor of the building. A dull 'thud' shook the building.

"The blocks being shelled," yelled Pincely. He was proven right when the apartment next door exploded. The three of them ran for it as the next shell hit the tenth floor.

Zenn burst through a door and ran out into the street. A rebel hover-car, modified with light armor and a pair of strapped on blasters rotated to greet him. Odom had lobbed a thermal detonator at it before running like hell. They had their lucky break with a side of near death right there. A steadily growing whine had grown while they were running, a Lambda-class shuttle on an erratic flight course burst into flames as a pair of oval-shaped wings fired one last laser burst into the dying ship before flying overhead. The Shuttle crashed into the building they just vacated and exploded scattering debris everywhere; the hover-car was crushed under several tons of office building moments later.

The troopers took a route into one of the many alleyways littering the battlefield of the city they were fighting in.

Their break didn't last, when they found themselves in an alleyway with a pair of of those thin Centurions. One of them leaped forward, blaster bolts dispersing on it's chest, a diagonal banner of red emblazoned across it's chest. It's five thin spiderleg-like claws parted slashed through Pincely's plastoid armor like it was tissue paper. Zenn fired a bolt into it's optics, blinding it. He and Odom ran for it, the other droid retracting it's claws to reveal a trio of wrist blasters incorporated into it's palms.

Blaster fire flew after them as the stormtroopers ran for their lives.

-

Now it was just those two Stormtroopers, fighting a losing battle against a Centurion and the occasional rebel sniper. The battle was winding down now, there were less shouts and the sounds of gunfire were dwindling.

Zenn sighed and checked his blaster for the last time. It was half empty. His blaster pistol was next to useless. No grenades. Odom didn't have much left either, having traded his E-11 for a blaster pistol and an ion pistol. Little good that did them, the Centurions were only slowed for a few minutes.

He peeked over his blaster peppered bit of cover. A dozen rebels and their Centurions stared right back at him.

Zenn realized that the shooting had stopped. Odom met his eyes through the black visor and his shoulders slumped.

Both troopers tossed their weapons aside, and grudgingly raised their arms high and stepped out from their cover.

The battle was over. The rebels had won.


End file.
